


Pandemonium

by potatochul (ai_hao)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Author: Hao, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ai_hao/pseuds/potatochul
Summary: Heechul receives his pansexuality membership benefits.





	Pandemonium

One would think that Heechul would have learned his lesson about opening strange mail. He's an idol, goddamnit—they've all gotten that one envelope with no return address that ends up containing a letter written in blood. So when a letter showed up on his doorstep with nothing written on the front but his name, he should have picked it up and deposited the damn thing directly in the garbage. Anyone in his position with two brain cells to rub together would have done it. He might try to make the excuse that he didn't sleep well, that his head was muddled from constantly going back and forth between recordings for the stupid amount of shows he agreed to be on. But Kim Heechul isn't much for excuses. The fact is, he fucked up.

The scene of the incident: outside the door of Heechul's apartment. Time: fuck-thirty A.M. Suspect: one business-size envelope, unmarked except for the words "Kim Heechul" and a square in the upper left corner colored in pink, yellow, and bright blue.

"What's this?" Heechul mutters to himself (a sign of old age) as he bends to pick it up. It doesn’t look like junk mail. With a shrug, he tears open the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. It’s printed on white paper, with a letterhead of the same three stripes that were on the envelope. It reads:

> To Kim Heechul:
> 
> This is to inform you that your application of September 24, 1995 has been approved. By opening this letter, you indicate your acceptance of membership. The following initial membership benefits have been conferred:
> 
> \- Pansexual invisibility
> 
> Your congratulatory pan has also shipped and should arrive later today.
> 
> Thank you for your interest. Should you wish to cancel your benefits, please fill out and return the enclosed form.
> 
> The Pansexual Pantheon

Heechul checks, but there's nothing else in the envelope. He tosses it on the floor inside, shuts the door, and leaves.

He pulls out his phone in the elevator and sends a kakao message to SHINee's Jonghyun: _i know it was you_.

Jonghyun, ever the insomniac, responds immediately: _huh?_

_quit playing innocent. who else do i know who would come up with the name “pansexual pantheon”? this is a promotion for pride week or something, right? are you actually going to send me a pan?_

_um ^^ hyung i have no idea what you’re talking about_

_sure. i’m on to you_

_ㄷㄷㄷㄷ scary ㅋㅋㄲㅋ_

Heechul rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone as he walks through the parking garage to his car. He’ll get Jonghyun to fess up later—but maybe after the pan comes in the mail, since he never did get around to buying one after he moved. In the meantime, he’s running late to work.

Traffic is bad. Traffic is always bad. Heechul _hates_ driving. Maybe it’s the constant tiny flare-ups of fear, or the pain in his left leg that has never really healed. Maybe it’s just the mind-numbing monotony of a morning commute. But he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. When he was in the military, he rode the subway, but even then he had to stay right next to the door and face out to keep from being seen. Now that he’s active again? No chance. This morning, though, seems especially bad. He gets cut off no less than five times and misses practically every red light. He screeches into the SBS parking lot half an hour late and runs to catch the elevator up. At least it’s just Game Show. They don’t care much what he looks like. He mutters apologies as he walks in, but thankfully nobody scolds him as he slinks up to the MC table and picks up a stack of cue cards.

The filming starts. For the first segment of the show, things go as usual. Someone else introduces the guests and the game for that week. Heechul cracks a couple jokes, but they fall flat. He shrugs it off. You can’t avoid getting edited out sometimes.

But then it comes time to divide into teams and actually play, and when they go down the list to sort everyone, they skip Heechul’s name.

“Wait a second,” Heechul says. Everyone else ignores him, too busy chattering about which female guest is on which male MC’s team.

“Everyone? Hey! You forgot me!” he says again, raising his voice now. He waves at the camera and leans out to look down the table, but to no avail. _What the hell_? Now they’ve crossed from mistake territory into actual rudeness. And it’s not like these are just random half-strangers he has a business relationship with—he’s been drinking buddies with Jinho at the end of the table for years now.

After another minute of futile attempts at getting someone’s attention, Heechul is fed up. “Hey! Jinho!” He crumples up his cue card and pegs his friend directly on the head. Jinho doesn’t respond except to brush his hair back into place.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Heechul mutters under his breath. “First that weird letter, now—what is this? Some kind of prank?” He stands up, pointing directly into the camera. “What the hell are you doing? It’s not funny!”

Nobody responds. Everyone avoids his gaze—or, no, it’s more like their eyes go right _through_ him. Like he doesn’t exist. _Like he_ _’s goddamn invisible._

“Fine. If you don’t want me here, then I’m leaving. Enjoy your game,” he spits, and stomps the fuck out of the studio. Nobody tries to stop him. Nobody watches him leave.

***

When Heechul gets home, there’s a pan on his doorstep. It’s not labeled, but he knows it’s for him. He takes a picture of it and sends it to Jonghyun, no commentary attached. He’s in a bad mood, and doesn’t want to be mean to his junior on nothing more than a hunch. _My therapist would be proud of me_ , he thinks bitterly. He still manages to scare Heebum with the force with which he slams the pan down on his kitchen table.

 _what does it mean? ㅇㅅㅇ_ comes Jonghyun’s reply a few minutes later.

 _you know what_ , Heechul replies. He picks the letter off the floor and sends a picture of that too for good measure.

_ㅋㅋㅋㄲㅋㅋㄱㄱㅋㅋ what the hell ㅋㅋㅋㅋㄲㅋ who wrote that, it’s seriously funny ㅋㅋ and even sending you a pan, that’s too much, heol_

_yeah. so funny. it’s also really funny how everyone has been acting like i don’t exist all fucking morning_. Too snappy, probably, but Heechul doesn’t have the patience for Jonghyun’s bubbly texts right this moment.

_really?_

_yes really. don’t act so shocked_

_um…maybe we should talk about this in person?_

***

Heechul meets Jonghyun in an unused practice room in the SM building, fuming. He might have calmed down on the drive over, but the traffic was bad yet again, and every unsafe maneuver the other drivers made around him picked at Heechul’s paranoia that someone was seriously trying to screw with him. He’s explained in not-the-calmest-possible terms the events of the morning, and has implicitly or explicitly implicated Jonghyun in it all at least three times. His therapist might not be so proud of him after all.

“Hyung, I’m serious,” Jonghyun repeats. “I swear to…uh…I swear on the _rainbow_ that I’m not lying to you.”

Heechul sighs and massages his brow. He’s being too harsh, he knows. “Only you could say that kind of shit with a straight face. Fine, I believe you. But there’s obviously someone pulling one over on me, and it’s way past being funny.”

“Or maybe it’s real,” Jonghyun says.

Heechul blinks at him. “What? Of course it’s not real. This is all some kind of stupid practical joke. Maybe the company’s making a 12th anniversary special DVD and they realized they can’t keep pulling the whole ‘Shindong is leaving the band’ prank forever. Or something. There’s got to be a normal explanation.”

“A prank with this many people? And no hidden cameras in sight?”

“I don’t know! But it can’t—what would it be, magic?”

“I don’t know either. But look,” Jonghyun points up the hall, “there’s Kibum, maybe we can test it. Kibum-ah!” Jonghyun calls, waving Key down.

Key walks (saunters, really) over. “What?”

“Can you see Heechul hyung there?” Jonghyun asks, pointing.

Key looks directly at Heechul, then back at Jonghyun, face blank. “Were you going to ask me something?”

“Uh…never mind.” Key walks away. Jonghyun turns to Heechul and whispers, “ _Holy shit!_ ”

Heechul is silent for a long moment, taking calming breaths. “You promise me you’re not involved.”

“Yes! I already said! And neither is Kibum, at least as far as I know. And neither are all the staff who have walked past us without even looking at you, even when you’re clearly yelling.”

“…Shit,” is all Heechul can think of to say. He pulls up a nearby chair and plops down into it. “‘Pansexual invisibility.’ I guess it’s real after all.”

“I guess so.” Jonghyun sits down, too. They’re quiet for a few minutes, thinking, then Jonghyun pipes up, “I would have thought it was only—but Kibum’s _gay!_ ”

“Then it must affect anyone who isn’t pan.”

“Which would be everyone here but you and me.”

Heechul nods. The company has its fair share of _bi_ sexuals—the Sino-Korean root sounds nicer, and it’s easier conceptually to talk to people in terms of two genders. Hell, most of them probably think of Heechul as bisexual, too. He’s not into giving vocabulary lessons; that’s one of the differences between his style and Jonghyun’s. He knows his identity is normal, and he thinks projecting nonchalance will make other people see it the same way. If that means they don’t pick up on what he’s saying when he tells them “I’m a girl today, I think,” or that they don’t understand the finer nuances of his relationship preferences, then so be it. The ones he cares about get it, and he doesn’t have time to worry about the rest.

“How many people in Korea would call themselves pan, do you think?” Heechul asks.

Jonghyun furrows his brows. “Based on who I know…in the hundreds, maybe? Not a lot.”

“Yeah.” Heechul lets out a breath. “Then I guess I’m invisible to just about everyone.” He can feel the shock wearing off, his mind spinning upward into the first fringes of ecstasy. He’s _invisible_. Motherfucking _invisible_.

“I guess you are,” Jonghyun agrees. “What are you going to do?”

***

The first thing Heechul does is take the subway. He jumps the turnstile like people do in movies (maybe less gracefully and with a few more unattractive grunting noises, but a decent approximation) and rides line 2 all the way to Hongdae. It’s packed, as usual, but there are no shrieks or gasps of recognition as people shuffle in and out of his car. When he gets out and walks down the shopping street, nobody looks at him twice. The last time he was here, he drew a big enough crowd to block off the street. Now, he’s just a random citizen. He stands right in the middle of a group of college students and says, “I’m Kim Heechul!” but they just move over a few feet and continue their conversation.

The second thing Heechul does is rob a bank. He waits until an employee opens the back door and follows close behind, completely unnoticed. It’s a lot more waiting for someone to actually come to the vault, but eventually a couple guards from an armored truck come for a pickup and he’s through. He can’t believe his eyes—piles and piles of money, more than even someone as rich as he is could ever imagine. Idly he wonders if Siwon has one of these in his house. He picks up a stack of bills and runs his thumb along the edge, and spends a few minutes imagining what he could buy with all this cash. But when the workers are done and it’s time for him to scram, he can’t bring himself to do it. In the end, he settles for a stray 10,000 won bill that’s fallen on the floor, just so he can say he really stole something, and leaves.

The third thing Heechul does is hole up in his house like the nerd he is. He plays with his pets. He rewatches every episode of Neon Genesis Evangelion. He uses his new pan to make instant ramyun. He pulls two consecutive all-nighters just because he can. Every second of it is wonderful.

***

This is what Heechul has figured out:

\- People can’t see him. Or, well, that’s not quite it. They see him, but they don’t notice him. He’s like a scratch on the lens of their glasses, visible but easy to overlook. The effects of this are bigger than he totally understands. He can’t shop online; the order sits waiting for confirmation, then automatically bounces back. He can’t order delivery; nobody answers his phone calls. He can, however, get stuff from the convenience store downstairs. Stealing still doesn’t seem right, so he writes out a list of everything he’s taken and leaves a pile of cash on the counter. He gives the cashier advice for creative sex positions as he counts out his change, grinning at the utter lack of response.

\- He can interact with the physical world normally, and people can still touch him, though they won’t try, or particularly pay attention when they do. He has to watch his toes in crowds so that people don’t step on them. The occasional person apologizes. None look at him when they do.

\- Touch sensors work, but infrared doesn’t. Automatic doors won’t open, sinks in public bathrooms won’t turn on, and he has to be careful getting on and off elevators.

\- He’s really fucking lonely.

His phone has been unusually quiet for the amount of work he’s missed without warning. He gets notifications from the members’ group chat, but none of the chatter has to do with him, and the couple messages he sent as an experiment went unanswered. Jonghyun knows what’s happening, but he’s busy, and they weren’t all that close to begin with. Nobody from the company or any of the TV stations he works for has contacted him. It’s weird, with how social Heechul is used to being, but it was kind of nice to unplug for a couple days and aggressively relax. But now, he’s starting to feel the effects of his binge tangling up in his good mood. He’s tired from under-sleeping. His stomach hurts from eating nothing but packaged and processed food. And he’s badly in need of human contact.

He has one last recourse: there’s an unread message from Gunhee. It’s a link to a funny video of a cat, literally the most basic content available to anyone with an internet connection, a relic of a simpler time before the letter turned Heechul’s life upside-down. The two of them are busy enough that it isn’t weird to go a day or so without responding, but Heechul knows he’s gotten to the point where it’s rude to keep waiting, especially given that it will take less than thirty seconds for him to watch the video and reply with a handful of ㅋs. But Heechul hasn’t responded. He’s terrified that if he does, the message will go unread forever.

So he puts it off. Better to be rude than to face losing his partner. Eventually he decides to start drinking. About a bottle and a half of soju in, he lays his head down on his kitchen table and starts sobbing pathetically. Another three or so bottles later, he decides that he can’t take it any longer. Gunhee is working in Korea right now, and Heechul is going to go see him, damn it. If he’s invisible, then he’ll just be the most annoying ghost in the world until Gunhee figures it out. He stumbles out of his apartment, gets on a bus—it’s only 4 in the afternoon—and somehow makes his way to Gunhee’s place.

Without bothering to knock, he barges into Gunhee’s apartment and finds it empty. So he has to wait. He could call, but he doesn’t, just plops down on the couch. Half an hour passes, then an hour. Heechul gets hungry and decides to raid the fridge, but it’s full of food ingredients and not things that are currently edible. He settles for a beer and a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese.

“I hope he’s not going out tonight,” Heechul says out loud. “Think of all the trouble I could get into. Would he even notice anything I did? If I turned all his pictures upside down? Switched the hair clay and the eye cream in his bathroom? Put his whole underwear drawer in the freezer?” He cackles, but it sounds hollow (and frankly a little crazy), so he stops. His mood sours further and he takes a long pull on his beer.

“I’m gonna miss him,” he mumbles. “And it’s all my fault. I should never have opened that goddamn letter.”

He’s still sitting there staring disconsolately into the bag of cheese when the lock beeps and the door opens. Gunhee walks in, looking tired as usual at the end of a long day of work. He takes off his bag and hangs it on a hook on the wall, then bends down to untie his shoes. Heechul holds his breath. Gunhee still hasn’t looked his way.

Then Gunhee straightens up to pull off his right shoe, and his gaze runs right over where Heechul is sitting. Heechul’s heart stops.

“Ahh!” Gunhee yelps, dropping his shoe and nearly falling over. “Shit, you scared me! You couldn’t have called first?”

“You can see me,” Heechul replies, his voice flat and stunned.

“Of course I can see you. I’m only 2 weeks older than you, idiot, I don’t have cataracts yet.”

Heechul hauls himself to his feet and propels himself in Gunhee’s direction. “You can see me,” he repeats. “You’re the first person who’s been able to see me in days.”

Gunhee pulls off his other shoe and hurries to catch Heechul before he falls. “Are you drunk?” He takes a whiff of Heechul’s breath and winces. “Yep. Definitely drunk.”

“Be that as it may,” Heechul insists, leaning heavily into Gunhee’s arms, “everything I am about to tell you is completely true.”

“Oh-ka-y.” Gunhee shifts so he’s more stably propping Heechul up and turns him around. “Let’s go sit…not on my new couch…and you can tell me about it.”

They settle down on the bathroom floor. Heechul slumps against the toilet and spills out days of unsaid words and worries (and also his guts, multiple times, but at least not all over the ground). Gunhee brings him glasses of water and asks a few questions, but mostly just listens, silently holding his hand. By the time Heechul’s story catches up to the present, he feels so empty and exhausted that he just lies down on the bath mat and stares at the ceiling.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he breathes. “All of a sudden. Over one lousy mistake. It felt like shit.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Gunhee reaches down and smooths his hair back.

“But it doesn’t make any sense. Why can you see me? You’re gay. It should still affect you.”

“Well.” Gunhee nudges Heechul over so they can both lay on the ground, though there’s not really enough room, and folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe for us…it’s more complicated than that. When I fell in love with you, I thought of you as a guy. When you told me you’re not always, that didn’t change things for me. I know I’m only attracted to men, as a concept. But I love you when you’re a man, or a woman, or something else, as a person. Because to me you’re not just a…I don’t know, an idea of a gender. You’re you, and I love _you_.” Gunhee stretches over to kiss Heechul’s cheek. “Every side of you. Which is a little more confusing than just saying ‘I’m gay’. So maybe that messes up the…” Gunhee waves his hands in a vague shape, “the system. Or whatever. I don’t know.” He crosses his arms and stuffs his hands into his armpits awkwardly, and gives Heechul a tentative half-smile. “But hey. Whatever it is, it worked out. You’re not alone. And since neither of us can see any way to change you back, we might as well take advantage of it and try to have some fun. Right? Imagine what kind of trouble we would have gotten into if this had happened when we were in high school.”

Heechul starts to laugh, but stops as his stomach makes a very urgent demand that he sit up and get his head back over the toilet bowl. Gunhee dodges and stands up to step very carefully out of the way.

“Maybe we should hold off on the trouble until tomorrow,” Heechul says weakly.

“I’ll get you some more water.”

***

The next day, once Heechul has gotten over his hangover, they decide to go out for a test run. It’s a femme kind of day, so Heechul goes back to his place to get one of the dresses he keeps in the back of the closet for special occasions. He puts on makeup, and Gunhee helps him put his bangs into a pretty braid. Once he’s satisfied with his appearance and the pets are fed, the two of them set out.

They’ve decided on Myeongdong. It’s crowded, good for testing the limits of Heechul’s “membership benefits”, and it’s a quintessential date spot. They’ve been before, years ago when Heejin opened her cafe. As dates go, it was a mess. Gunhee was already keyed up from meeting someone in Heechul’s family for the first time, and on top of that, they’d drawn a sizeable gaggle of fans. That was when they were new and still awkward, and Gunhee hadn’t figured out how much of a public figure he was becoming. Heechul glances over at Gunhee now, with his designer jeans and perfectly clean shaven face, and can’t help but feel sad about how much has changed. Gunhee has done well with his career on his own, but they both know being with Heechul shoved him into the limelight, whether he was ready for it or not.

Heechul insists on taking the subway just to show off. His plan backfires when he realizes, one leg already committed, that hopping the turnstile is much more difficult in a dress. Swearing loudly, he continues his valiant attempt until Gunhee comes around and offers him a hand. He pretends he doesn't hear Gunhee snickering as he smooths out his skirt and his bruised dignity.

"It's a good thing you're still invisible, because you just showed the whole damn subway station your junk," Gunhee comments.

"Shut up," Heechul responds, taking the lead toward the elevator. "More importantly, nobody noticed you helping me commit a crime. So it rubs off on you, too." He turns and gives Gunhee a wicked grin. "This is going to be fun."

Heechul drags Gunhee into the first big store he sees after getting out of the subway. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” he says, stopping in front of a prominent display with several mannequins. “Have you ever seen photos of Americans rearranging their neighbor’s Christmas deer so that they’re humping?”

Gunhee bursts out laughing as soon as he realizes what Heechul has in mind. “Should have grabbed the sex dice before we left home.”

“I have full confidence in our naturally filthy minds. Now, where’s the lingerie section?”

Gunhee takes on fetching sexy panties duty first, then just guard duty once they realize how hard it is to dress mannequins that are bent out of their intended poses, while Heechul shoulders the responsibility of artistic direction. He starts off simple, bending one over and extending another’s hand to slap the first one’s ass. But once he’s confident that the mannequins are flexible enough for his needs and that the workers probably won’t come bother him in time to ruin his masterpiece, he gets more creative. Gunhee has a few suggestions to offer too (though Heechul rejects 69 as “too immature”). He’s working on the piece de resistance, two female mannequins scissoring on the central platform, when he accidentally snaps one’s leg clean in half.

“Well, fuck,” Heechul grumbles.

“I guess that’s what happens when your scissors are too sharp,” Gunhee says.

Heechul turns and glares at him. “I’m breaking up with you.”

After slinking out of the store in defeat, they wander around for a few minutes and debate what to do next. No good ideas come to mind. Heechul complains that Gunhee is getting old on him, but he’s not in as much of a mood for fooling around anymore, either. They decide to call it quits and go to a bingsu shop instead.

“Is there room for two?” Gunhee asks the barista, glancing over his shoulder into the crowded cafe.

“We've got room at the counter,” she replies, pointing out three empty chairs in the corner. Gunhee orders them a strawberry mango bingsu, and they take the two seats closest to the wall. When another party of two walks in, they don't try to take Heechul's seat, but the waitress also sets the bingsu directly in front of Gunhee and gives them only one spoon.

“Weird,” Gunhee remarks as Heechul reaches over the bar to grab himself a spoon.

“I've decided that, as a rule, people do whatever makes them notice me the least. They would notice sitting on me more than not being able to sit, so they don't sit. They would notice two spoons more than one, so we get one. But watch, nobody will comment that you ate a two person set by yourself and used two spoons to do it.”

“Mm,” Gunhee agrees through a mouthful of ice.

“We...haven't been on a date in a while,” Heechul says, attempting to sound both casual and apologetic at the same time.

“Yeah. It's hard with me being gone for two different salons now,” Gunhee replies. He stirs the melted ice water at the edge of the bowl with unmistakable guilt.

Well, that didn't go according to plan. “But hey, it's fine! We still have our fun.” Nudging Gunhee to sure he's watching, Heechul picks up his spoon and licks it in a way that is totally inappropriate for a public place.

Gunhee flushes crimson and slams Heechul's hand down, but he's barely able to hold in his laughter.

“What? It's fine, nobody saw. I bet they can't even see the boner you just popped.”

“Did not,” Gunhee protests, though Heechul catches him glancing down to check.

“Made you look.”

“Why does the Ministry of Family Values let you outside?”

“Because I fucked the Minister. Obviously.” Heechul pauses for a second, then remembers what the current Minister looks like and grimaces. “...Ew.”

“Yep, I'm never gonna unsee that mental image. Thanks.”

Heechul glances around, but there are no glares in their direction despite that decidedly family-unfriendly conversation. “At least nobody else looks scarred.”

“That was all you. I'm behaving myself.”

“I bet you money they wouldn't have noticed you anyway. Not if it involves me.”

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.” Heechul takes one last bite of bingsu, then grabs Gunhee’s hand and drags him out of the restaurant.

***

“Do it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to die in a trampling accident. Fan death is real, Heechul.”

“You’ll be fine. You go to the gym.” Heechul squeezes Gunhee’s hand. “Now GO!”

Gunhee closes his eyes tight and yells at the top of his lungs, “ _This is the legendary idol, Super Junior_ _’s Kim Heechul!_ ”

All around them, shoppers go about their day, paying no mind to the couple of weirdos standing on the planter. Gunhee slowly opens one eye, wincing, then the other as he sees that it’s safe. “Damn. Nothing.”

“Stage one: success.” They high-five and hop down from the planter, running hand in hand like kids to the SPAO down the street that they’ve picked for their next destination.

Heechul snatches a walkie-talkie from an employee’s belt and passes it to Gunhee. “Attention shoppers,” Gunhee says, in a stupid announcer voice that makes Heechul laugh so hard he drools, “I’m here with Kim Heechul, yes, _that_ Kim Heechul, the hottest model to ever grace these hallowed walls—” he pauses for a moment, glancing around, then barrels on, “—and we have a very important announcement to make.”

Heechul grabs the walkie-talkie out of his hand and continues. “This is my boyfriend. We’re totally banging. Yaoi, M/M, don’t like don’t read. Anyone who wants to bitch can feel free to cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.” There is a distinct lack of crying from the store’s 20-something clientele. Gunhee takes the walkie-talkie back and makes a fart noise into it for good measure.

“Hey!” the employee snaps.

“Oops.” Gunhee sets the walkie-talkie back on the counter gently, and the two of them bolt. They stop about a block down the street, panting, and high-five again.

“Stage two: success,” Heechul grins. “Ready for stage three?”

“I don’t think we planned a stage three.”

“It’s a surprise.” Heechul takes a deep breath, looking around him at the crowded street. He was plenty confident that the first two would be fine, but now his heart stutters in his chest. He knows every single person here has a smartphone. All it would take is one photo to send his career up in flames for good.

But then the feeling of invincibility that’s buoyed him through the last several days rises up in him, and before he can second-guess himself, he leans down and kisses Gunhee full on the lips.

Gunhee jumps back immediately, pulling Heechul by the shoulder down and out of the way as if to hide. “ _What the hell was that?_ ” he hisses.

“That,” Heechul replies, twisting out of his grasp to gesture imperiously at the crowd of unsuspecting bystanders, “was stage three. And I’d call it a success.”

Carefully, Gunhee straightens up, blinking out at the faces that don’t give them a second glance. “I…I don’t believe it.”

“Seeing is believing,” Heechul crows. “Or in this case, _not_ seeing.”

They look at each other, and grins spread across their faces as they say what they’re both thinking: “ _This changes everything._ ”

Then Gunhee pulls Heechul into his arms for a proper kiss, right there in the middle of the road, and nobody has a goddamn thing to say about it.

***

Heechul keeps thinking he’s going to wake up and realize this has all been a dream. Because frankly, it’s too good to be true.

Gunhee has moved in with him. They’d decided not to originally because it might look suspicious, but now that Heechul needs more help getting through the day and there’s nobody around to care, they figure it just makes sense. They debated briefly over whose place to go to, but even though Gunhee has a properly stocked kitchen, Heechul has pets, so he won. After so long of being lucky to see each other one day out of every few months, being together every day is like a shot of caffeine straight into the bloodstream of their relationship.

They think it’s smart for one of them to be stably employed, so Gunhee goes to work during the day, but Heechul doesn’t mind the alone time. He gets up whenever the hell he feels like it and puts on whatever the hell clothes he feels like wearing. Some days he stays at home and plays video games, but he can’t get LOL to work and nothing else he has is quite as fun. The rest of the time he leaves and just wanders around the city. The freedom is incredible. He can go anywhere he wants, any time he wants. If he has to take a piss he can do it in whatever bathroom he damn well pleases, _and_ he doesn’t have to worry about being followed in. He’s not completely incautious—he avoids Itaewon for safety’s sake—but as the days go by and nothing continues to happen, he gets more and more comfortable with his new life.

Their nights are something else entirely. Once in a while they stay home and Gunhee cooks, but most of the time, they go out. Heechul has never been much of a PDA person, but he holds Gunhee’s hand everywhere he goes, and kisses him on escalators and in parks and next to rivers as the trees lose their spring blossoms to the gentle twilight wind. Heechul buys evening gowns just to wear to dinner, and they go out in full formalwear, Heechul's hair curled into 1920’s finger waves. They drink soju out of wine glasses and make toasts to the Gay Agenda in restaurants full of people who don’t bat an eye, then go home and drink pleasure from each others’ bodies until the morning sun stains their skin golden. Putting it simply, they are ostentatiously queer.

Heechul thinks he’d be happy to spend the rest of his life like this.

***

It’s April 17th, almost three weeks since Heechul got the letter. Yesung has just released the music video for his new solo album, and a bunch of the members are over at work bothering him. Heechul sits on his couch and watches them through Instagram live. They’re funny and ridiculous as usual, but it’s putting an unexpected damper on his mood to see them all fooling around and laughing without him. Seeing the occasional fan comment asking “where is Heechul? :(” pop up and disappear unacknowledged just makes him feel worse. He knows from the group chat that they’re planning on drinking together afterward to congratulate Yesung. After wasting most of the afternoon sitting on the couch, eating chips and marinating in self-pity, he decides that he’s going to pay them a visit.

He takes the bus to Yesung’s apartment. Getting in is a problem he hasn’t planned for, but just his luck, they’d ordered delivery and Heechul manages to sneak in when they open the door.

“Hey, kids,” Heechul says as he takes off his shoes. The members don’t respond. Jungsoo walks right past him with two big plastic bags full of food, while Kyuhyun pours five glasses of friendship booze (Heechul’s recipe: soju and beer, but mostly soju, with a small enough amount of beer that the drink still looks clear). Heechul gets himself a cup out of the cabinet and pours one for himself. He tries to clink glasses with the others, but it’s more difficult than you would think when nobody else is trying to make room for you. So he drains the glass on his own, then perches on the arm of the couch and tries to think of a good prank. He decides to start with the old Super Junior classic: fighting over food. When Kyuhyun puts his plate down, Heechul quickly transfers his portion of the tangsuyuk onto Yesung’s plate.

“Did you take my tangsuyuk?” Kyuhyun asks Yesung. Heechul rubs his hands together in anticipation.

“No,” Yesung says, looking insulted.

“I swear I had more tangsuyuk,” Kyuhyun frowns.

“Fight, fight, fight,” Heechul whispers in Kyuhyun’s ear.

Then Sungmin pipes up, “There’s still more here, Kyuhyun,” and the tension immediately dissipates. Defeated, Heechul flops onto the ground like a wet shoelace.

Everything else goes just as badly. He tries to pants Jungsoo (the guy has no ass to hold them up anyway), but Jungsoo chooses that exact second to pull his pants up, and Heechul ends up off-balance and on the floor. He takes all of their cell phones and hides them in Yesung’s bed, but they all get up on their own and retrieve them, faces blank and unconcerned. As a final attempt, he dumps an entire glass of water directly into Sungmin’s shirt, but all he does is pick up a napkin and absent-mindedly wipe it off.

The members drink and chat and play-fight and yell their way through every single one of his pranks. Not only are they completely unaware of his presence, they don’t even seem to remember his absence. They talk about their plans for their 8th album and what they might do for Super Show 7, and bring up funny moments from recent variety shows one member or another was on. Heechul has a brief moment of hope when Shindong mentions Knowing Brothers, but Yesung immediately shuts down that line of conversation, protesting that talking about Kang Hodong stresses him out. It’s kind of like their minds are all swerving to avoid running into Heechul. It’s kind of like Heechul doesn’t exist.

He can’t take it anymore. He stands up and walks out the door; nobody says goodbye. Pushing down a wave of depressive thoughts that rise up and threaten to drown him, Heechul pulls out his phone, a distraction. He has a notification. It’s a series of unread messages from Gunhee, with timestamps ranging from an hour to ten minutes ago:

_hey you out?_

_should i start dinner?_

_ok I’m hungry so I’m cooking_

_?? you ok? you’re usually home by now_

_can you just text me back and let me know you’re ok? i’m getting worried_

“Shit,” Heechul whispers. He hesitates for a second, then texts back, _sorry my phone died and i lost track of time. i’ll be back soon_. He hates lying, but he hates the thought of trying to describe what just happened even more. In silence, with heavy steps, he makes his way slowly home.

Back in his apartment, he takes his shoes off and slumps to the dining table.

“Hey,” Gunhee says from the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Heechul replies unconvincingly.

Gunhee steps out of the kitchen, looking concerned. “Did something happen?”

Heechul doesn’t respond.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Heechul tries to say “no,” but it catches on a knot in his throat and he just shakes his head.

Gunhee walks over and gently rubs his shoulder. “Can I at least get you something to eat?” Heechul shakes his head again. “Okay. Well, I made extra, so I’m going to put it in the fridge for later if you want it.” Heechul nods. As soon as Gunhee is gone, he gets up and goes to curl up in his bed. He pulls the covers up over his head and hugs his knees to his chest.

There are footsteps, then a meow, then a Heebum-sized bundle is deposited on top of Heechul. He feels the angle of the bed shift as Gunhee sits down on the other side. “Do you want me to stay, or go sleep in the guest bed?”

Heechul reaches out a hand from under the blankets and latches onto Gunhee’s wrist. “Stay.”

“Okay.” Gunhee lays down under the covers, but still leaves Heechul his space. Heechul takes his hand but doesn’t move closer.

“Thank you,” Heechul says. He thinks Gunhee will understand what he means. Gunhee always understands.

“I love you,” Gunhee replies.

Heechul squeezes his hand tight and lets the silence and the dark settle down over them.

***

Three days later, Heechul opens his door to find another pink, yellow, and bright blue-stamped letter waiting for him. He picks it up and, after a moment of consideration, opens it. The envelope contains two pieces of paper this time. The top paper is mostly blank, with just a letterhead and a few short lines of text:

> Dear Valued Member:
> 
> We have discovered that due to a clerical error, membership invitation letter mailing #0070631 was sent without the membership benefits cancellation form. Please find the form enclosed. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
> 
> The Pansexual Pantheon

The second page has the same letterhead, but a series of fill-in boxes:

> PANSEXUAL PANTHEON APPLICATION FOR CANCELLATION OF MEMBERSHIP BENEFITS
> 
> Name:
> 
> Date of membership application:
> 
> Benefits to be canceled:
> 
> Reason (Optional):
> 
> Cancellation date:
> 
> Signature:

In small print under the boxes is a note:

> WARNING: Benefits cancellation is final. Requests for resumption of benefits will be denied. All benefits will be canceled immediately upon receipt. The Pansexual Pantheon makes every effort to provide all members with a smooth cancellation experience, but is not responsible for any damages occurring during the benefits or cancellation periods.

Heechul stares down at the form and realizes his hands are trembling. He steps slowly back into his apartment and sits down on the couch. This is it. Just fill out this form, and he can go back to his old life. He can see his members again. Talk to his family. Go out with his friends. Do things on his own. People will remember that he exists.

And he and Gunhee will have to go back to worrying about public opinion.

As soon as Heechul realizes that, he sets the letter down, falling back into the couch. There’s the complicated part. His invisibility “benefit” has come with plenty of downsides, sure, but it’s also meant that he’s finally been able to give Gunhee the love and attention and privacy he deserves for the first time in more than five years. Wouldn’t it be selfish for him to bring their new life to an end just to solve a few personal problems?

At a minimum, they need to talk about it first. Heechul stashes the letter under one of the couch cushions and gets up to find something else to do other than ruminate on it.

Gunhee gets home from work at the usual time, carrying takeout. Heechul thinks he’s looking better these days. Maybe some of it is being at home, where he speaks the language well and knows his way around, but he wonders if some of it is relief from the stress of always having to watch himself, knowing that anything he does wrong will reflect badly on Heechul, too. Knowing that anything he does can and will be used against him if one day they decide to come out, or get outed.

Heechul thinks about bringing up the letter during dinner, but the timing feels wrong. He suggests going out for a walk. They pick up a couple bottles of soju from a convenience store and wander down toward the Han river, playing with their bottle caps and listening to the hum of the early cicadas. The alcohol settles warm in Heechul’s stomach and he feels at peace with the world and his life for a moment. But then he catches sight of one of his Miwon ads in a store, and his gut twists in a knot. What should he do? How long can he afford to keep avoiding his life? How much longer can he stand it?

“So, Gunhee,” he starts, then trails off, not sure how to continue. “How…how do you feel about…the way things are right now? With me, and all this?”

“Me?” Gunhee asks. Heechul nods. “I mean, it’s easier for me than you. I’m not the one who had my life turned upside-down.” Dangling his soju bottle from the fingers of one hand, Gunhee stuffs his other hand into his pocket. “For me…it _is_ nice being able to go out like this with you. To just be normal. I didn’t really think—I’d kind of given up on this, when I realized I was gay. But all of a sudden, here we are. So I like that part of it.” He smiles, and right then Heechul realizes his choice is made. He can’t take this away from Gunhee now. It might be their last chance at a quiet, peaceful life before the shadow of Heechul’s public presence falls back over them. Whatever difficulties Heechul might have to shoulder, he owes it to Gunhee to keep things this way just a little longer.

“Yeah,” Heechul says. “I like it, too.” He takes a long pull on his soju and tells himself he’s strong enough to keep waiting.

***

Heechul’s life has begun to spiral rapidly downhill.

It started a few days ago, while he was out taking a walk to enjoy the spring weather. He was crossing the street. Even though he’d been careful to wait for the green walk signal and look both ways before stepping out, halfway across the street, a left turner screeched by not two inches in front of him. He darted to the other side of the road and had to sit on the curb for several minutes willing his pounding heart to calm down. It’s impossible to know whether the person was just being an idiot or actually couldn’t see him. Either way, the incident seriously freaked him out. If he had been just a little faster crossing, who knows how long he would have been left on the pavement before someone noticed and called emergency services? And would they even have shown up for him?

Since that day, he hasn’t gone outside by himself. He stays inside, lays around in bed, and sleeps a lot. He’s getting by for now with Gunhee around, but he can tell from the phone calls he overhears that Gunhee has been putting off going to his other salons and is going to have to leave again soon. Gunhee says as much himself one night while he’s cooking dinner.

“I need to go to Japan next week.” His tone is awkward and hard to interpret.

“Oh,” Heechul responds in kind.

“I might be able to bring you with me. We could go see Toil hyung. Would you like that?”

“I don’t know.” Heechul fiddles with the bracelet on his left wrist, the one Toil and he bought together that he wears almost every day. Truthfully, he’s been avoiding thinking about any of the other people in his life who might or might not still remember that he exists. “I don’t want anything else to go wrong, you know?”

Gunhee is silent for a long time, facing away from Heechul, slowly stirring a steaming pot. “Maybe I could work it out so you’d be okay on your own here. I could put food in the freezer. And it’s not that long of a flight, I could probably come back more often than I was planning, if I had to…”

“I’m sorry,” Heechul says.

“It’s not your fault. There’s nothing we can do about it, anyway.”

Heechul feels sick to his stomach.

***

He should never have hidden that damn letter. He knew it when he did it, and he’s known it every day he’s thought of just telling Gunhee that he lied and they have a way out of this mess. He thought he had good reasons for doing what he did, but every day he stays silent it gets harder to justify.

Taking a beer up to the rooftop garden to try and clear his mind, he acts out the conversation over and over again in his head. “This just appeared today out of nowhere.” No. He’s not going to run from what he did like a coward. He could never live with himself if he did.

“I was doing this for you.” No. Too accusatory. Gunhee never asked this of him, and would never have agreed if he’d been given the choice. Heechul’s self-aware enough to recognize how unstable he’s become over the last couple of weeks, and Gunhee would have told him, with good reason, to take care of his own mental health first.

“I should have told you the truth right away.” That’s it, isn’t it? No excuses. It makes Heechul feel bare and naked, and he crosses his arms in front of him unconsciously. He never used to be the type to apologize or admit fault—there’s a reason this is his longest-lived relationship—and he still feels uncomfortable doing it. But it has to be done. After he rehearses the wording a few more times and takes a few more deep breaths to calm himself down, he finishes his beer and goes back downstairs to wait for Gunhee to get home.

When Heechul walks into the apartment, Gunhee is standing in the living room, his back to the door, the lights off.

“Hey,” Heechul says cautiously.

“Hey.” Gunhee doesn’t turn around.

“You’re home early.” It’s the wrong thing to say, Heechul realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He knows what’s happened before he sees it for himself. Gunhee finally turns, and he’s holding a slightly couch-wrinkled letter in his hands.

“Last minute cancellation,” Gunhee replies, his voice stiff. “You weren’t here, so I thought I’d turn on the TV, but I couldn’t find the remote. Instead, I found this.” He meets Heechul’s gaze, and his eyes are brimming with pain and betrayal. “Why did you hide this from me?”

“I was trying to make you happy,” Heechul blurts out. “Fuck. No.” He massages his eyes, kicking himself internally. “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” he tries again. “Shit. That still sounds bad. I…” His hands drop uselessly to his sides. Gunhee’s lips stay sealed in a tight line, but his eyes bore straight through Heechul’s soul. “Yeah. I really fucking screwed up. I thought I was doing it for a good reason, but it was still wrong for me to keep acting like I was stuck when I knew I had a way out. And I’m sorry. I came down here to tell you that. I was hoping I’d be able to do it on my own.” He looks away, unable to stand meeting Gunhee’s eyes any longer.

Gunhee doesn’t answer immediately, and when he does, it comes out quiet and strained. “You kept putting up with all this, when you could have stopped it and gone back to normal, because of me?”

“I was an idiot. It was wrong.”

“No—I’m trying to understand. Why?”

Heechul gestures helplessness. “I felt guilty. You never signed up to be a public figure, but you’ve had to become one because of me. You might have been able to have a normal, private relationship someday, but now you never will, because of me. It’s not fair to you.”

“Heechul…” Gunhee lets out a sharp breath. “I didn’t walk into this blindfolded. I knew what I was getting into. Maybe it took some getting used to, but I knew. Being a celebrity is your life, and if I wanted to be a part of that life, I had to be prepared to accept everything that came with it. And I was. And I still am.”

“You shouldn’t have to. You’re doing your best, but I know it’s stressful. And you looked so happy those first few weeks…and I was happy too, when I realized what this could mean for us. There were shitty things about it, but I thought I could deal with it, for your sake.”

“And give up your career? Your friends? Your family?”

“Yes. And I’d do it again. Not easily. Not happily. Not without a fight. But if it came down to that, I’d give up everything and choose you. Because I love you.” His voice sounds rough and thick with tears that he can no longer hold back. They spill down his cheeks, hot and unwelcome. “This isn’t much of an apology. I’m sorry. I should have told you right away and let you make this decision with me instead of assuming I knew what you really wanted. This situation affects you too, and I know you’ve had to make sacrifices to stay here with me. You deserve more thanks for that than I’ve given you.”

Heechul wipes his face with the heel of his hands, embarrased, then realizes that Gunhee is crying too. Heechul steps toward him, but stops, awkward. “Shit. Did I do something else wrong?”

Gunhee responds by throwing his arms around Heechul and burying his face in Heechul’s shoulder. “I love you too, you big, melodramatic idiot.”

Heechul can’t help but chuckle weakly as he holds Gunhee close. “I wasn’t that dramatic.”

“Yes you were.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Laughing, Gunhee pulls away enough to sniffle and rub his eyes. “I don’t _want_ you to give up everything for me, Heechul. Because as hard as I try, I can’t be everything for you. And that’s okay. We’re not supposed to live like this, two people relying only on each other, cut off from the rest of the world.”

“No, we’re not. We need to have our own lives.” Heechul takes a deep breath. “So, I think it’s time for me to sign that letter.”

Gunhee hands it to him. Heechul gets a pen, and they both sit down at the kitchen table. He’s shaking slightly as he goes to fill in the boxes, and Gunhee takes his hand, holding him steady. Careful not to make a mistake, Heechul answers each question.

> Name: Kim Heechul
> 
> Date of membership application: September 24th, 1995
> 
> Benefits to be canceled: Pansexual invisibility
> 
> Reason (Optional): Having a life
> 
> Cancellation date: April 29, 2017

He stops with his pen above the blank where it says “Signature:”. “Are you ready?” he asks. Gunhee nods. In one final stroke, Heechul signs his name.

As soon as Heechul lifts his pen, the form disappears in a puff of pink, yellow, and bright blue smoke. Heechul holds out his hands to look at them, but he can’t tell the difference, obviously.

“Feel anything?” Gunhee asks.

“No. But I never did. I think we’re going to have to go out and test it.”

They take the elevator down together and walk out of the apartment complex. It’s still just barely light out, and it doesn’t take long before they encounter a group of young people walking down the street in the other direction. One of them stops short and points directly at them.

“Oh my god, it’s Kim Heechul!”

Heechul and Gunhee look at each other. “Guess it worked,” Heechul whispers. They wait for the group to leave in a flurry of excited chatter, then head back home.

“By the way,” Gunhee asks, “what happened in 1995?”

“Ah.” Heechul flushes, a sheepish grin creeping across his face. “I kissed one of the boys in my class, then wrote about it in our school diary. I guess you could say that was my first coming out.”

“Was he _cuuute_?” Gunhee asks, raising his pitch at least an octave.

“I will pay you money if you never do that voice again.”

***

Heechul will give the Pansexual Pantheon this, they weren’t kidding when they would give him a smooth cancellation experience. He has excuses prepared when he walks into his recording the next day, but nobody asks or comments on his absence. For once, he doesn’t mind having something about him not be noticed.

Gunhee goes to Japan according to plan, and moves his stuff back to his own apartment. They both agree that it’s better that way—they’re on completely different time schedules, and besides, sometimes they just need their own space. Heechul would still be a liar if he said it didn’t hurt saying goodbye. Being long-distance sucks even more now that they’ve had a taste of the alternative. But if that's the price of both having their own lives, Heechul is willing to pay it.

In a few months, when Jonghyun gets a mysterious letter with a pink, yellow, and bright blue stamp, he follows Heechul’s advice and puts it straight in the shredder.


End file.
